


Too Many Women, Too Many Pills

by TotallyNotGabrielInDisguise



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, F/F, Genderbending, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 15:12:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1309396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotallyNotGabrielInDisguise/pseuds/TotallyNotGabrielInDisguise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean, Sam and Cas turn into Deanna, Samantha and Castielle, female issues pop up all over the place and an overbearing witch decides to screw everything up.</p><p>Well, this is fun, isn't it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Many Women, Too Many Pills

**Author's Note:**

> This fic may or may not contain large amounts of crack, just saying.
> 
> Title is from Shoot to Thrill, by ACDC.

So, let’s sum up what had happened today so far:

Dean had woken up only to find he wasn’t Dean anymore. Well, not Dean Dean, but… Deanna Dean. As in, he now was missing a pair of ‘his’ balls and now a pair of ‘hers’. And as far as Dean knows, - Deanna knows, whatever - Sam is now Samantha and Castiel is now Castielle.

So there Deanna was, lying in her bed in the bunker of the Men of Letters, waiting for something, _anything_ , to make sense as she read through countless books on changing sexes, tricksters, witches, anything and everything that would even make a lick of sense to the now female trio.

Well, that’s what Deanna _was_ doing, until she heard an ear piercing shriek coming from outside the closed door. Deanna scrambled out of bed, tripped over the jeans she was wearing - wow, were those really the smallest pants Dean had? - and scrambled out of the door - and whoa, so this is why women wear bras.

Suddenly, wearing a hairband seemed like a great idea as Deanna’s shoulder length hair kept repeatedly smacking her in the face. Sam was out on a supply run, in the back of Deanna’s mind she made note to text her… sister - it still felt strange calling her that - a list of extra supplies.

Deanna saw a thick, red substance on the marble floor and the scent of iron was thick in the air.

Deanna felt momentarily panicked. The scream sounded like Castielle’s, she had no idea what she was up against and she had no idea what would kill it. She searched for a gun, a knife – hell, even salt would be some sort of comfort to her. Deanna saw the glint of a silver knife in the corner of her eye and rushed to pick it up. On the way there, she found a gun and tucked it into her back pocket. Or she tried until she realized her pants were still too wide at the waist.

Cautiously, she followed the trail of blood. It seemed to thicken the more she followed it. It lead all the way to the bathroom where she could hear various grunts of pain.

“Cas?!” She bust in, knife in ready-to-stab position. Then she froze.

She saw Castielle sitting cross-legged in a large pool of blood, clutching her stomach, groaning and doubled over in pain. The water was running, a towel hanging over the edge of the sink already half soaked in blood.

Deanna flung her knife into the corner and rushed to Castielle. “You alright?”

Deanna tried to pull Castielle’s shirt up to inspect for wounds, but Castielle jerked away from the touch with a sharp “don’t touch me!” followed a few seconds later with an apology.

“Jeez, I’m just trying to help,” Deanna’s voice came out pitcher than intended.

“Dean - Deanna - I’m not sure what to call you,” Castielle punctuated with a loud groan, “I seem to be bleeding.”

“Yeah, no crap,” Deanna looped an arm under Castielle’s and helped her up only to have her collapse on the white ledge of the bath tub and lurch over into the fetal position. Deanna snatched the towel from the side of the sink and began wiping Castielle down. “Where’s the wound? I need to apply pressure.”

“That’s the problem,” Castielle murmured. “I wasn’t stabbed. It just… Happened.”

“Wait, what?” Deanna rolled Castielle’s shirt up a little and began feeling around her waist. No stab wounds, just as she said. “Witchcraft? Hex bags?”

“I can’t sense anything abnormal or supernatural in the bunker,” Castielle turned up to face Deanna. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Deanna sighed. So, all she knew was that for some strange reason, Dean, Sam and Castiel had turned into Deanna, Samantha and Castielle, with two ‘l’s and an ‘e’. And now Castielle was covered in blood, clutching her abdomen in pain, no stab wound and no hex-

Oh no.

 _Oh God no_.

“Hey, uh, Cas?” Deanna got up and slipped her phone out of her back pocket. “I think I know what’s happening. I’m just gonna… Call up a few people. You just… You just stay here.”

Deanna left the bloody room before she could watch the rest of the scene in the bathroom. She headed into the main room and slumped down in a chair. She stared at her phone and hoped that this would work. Her suddenly slimmer fingers pushed at the buttons, highlighted a name in the contacts and hit ‘dial’.

A couple of rings later, and another, feminine yet familiar voice answered. “Hey, what’s up, Dean? Kinda busy here in Oz with the whole ‘witch’ situation, but I can spare a few moment.”

Deanna grinned. “Hey, Charlie. Sort of in a situation here and could use your help.”

It was as though Deanna could physically feel Charlie tense upon the other end. “Who are you and why do you have this phone number?”

“Hey, nice to hear from you, too,” Deanna chuckled. “Yeah so, um, we kinda got turned into chicks?”

“Hey, slow down, hot shot, how can I be sure you’re not lying?” Charlie was getting better at this ‘trust’ thing. Deanna couldn’t help but be proud. Dorothy was teaching her well.

“Alright, want me to prove I’m Dean? How about that tattoo? Slave Leia ring a bell?” Deanna hoped she hadn’t told many others about her tattoo.

A silence came from the end of the line in Oz. How did Oz have reception anyways? Deanna just shrugged and could think of about twenty other, weirder things that have happened, so she let it slide.

“Okay… But know if you’re not actually Dean, Dean is so gonna kick your ass when he finds you,” Charlie warned. “So what’s wrong Dean? Or, wait, what’s the fem form of Dean? I’ve read in a couple of places you being called Deanna, so yeah, let’s go with that.”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘you’ve read’? And what’s a ‘fem form?’ Anyways, so get this,” Deanna tried to sort out her thoughts into words. “So Sam, Cas and I woke up as chicks today. Well, I say ‘woke up’, but I don’t actually think Cas sleeps anymore. We just found out we became girls.”

Charlie chuckled. “Wow. So what’s wrong? It’s not like I can help you find out who did this.”

“Well, we’ve got a little bit of a… situation,” Deanna tried to explain as discreetly as she could. “See, Cas… She’s kinda… On it.”

“On it? On what? Deanna, I- Wait. No way.” Charlie stopped.

“Yeah,” Deanna sighed.

“No freaking way,” Charlie sounded… Giddy. Amused. Everything Deanna was not.

“C’mon Charlie! What am I supposed to do when my friend’s on his- _her_ friggin’ _period_ for the first time in her life?” Deanna begged.

“Alright, alright,” Charlie said after a bout of laughter. “Who’s going out to the stores next?”

“Sam’s already on a run.”

“Then text her - he’s turned too, right? Text her to get into the nearest pharmacy and get a buttload of pads. They’re like these giant wads of tissue, just get a few boxes, you don’t know how long this genderbend thing will last, so be prepared. To use ‘em, just slip them in your underwear, they’re sticky on one side,” Charlie said in a surprisingly light tone. “Oh yeah, you might have heard of tampons? Yeah, don’t get those. I’m guessing you guys are still virgins in your female bodies? You sure as hell don’t wanna lose your virginity over a period.”

“Charlie,” Deanna began questioningly, “you sound oddly calm about all of this.”

“Well, duh. We kinda do this every month since we were teens,” Charlie had the voice of someone telling you the right answer to a simple question you got wrong.

“So you’re telling me, you girls bleed bucket-loads of blood every month, and you’re still this chill about it?” Deanna asked, then made a low whistling sound. “Well then that… That pretty much boosts my respect levels by a thousand percent.”

Deanna can hear Charlie laugh on the other end. “Thanks. Hey, look, I gotta go because I can see about a hundred flying monkeys coming my way and they look pissed. See ya, Dean – Deanna.” And the phone line clicks dead.

Deanna took the phone away from her ear and looked at it for a moment. In that moment of slices, she can hear more guttural groans coming from the bathroom. She dialed in another number and waited for it to pick up.

Eventually, it did. “Hey, Sammy, how’s the run going?”

“Hey, Dean. Or, what’d you call yourself this morning? Deanna? Whatever. Hey, did you know that most of pockets on women’s clothing are fake?” Samantha mused on the other end. “No wonder they have to carry those bags-“

“Look, Sam, we’ve got a situation. Like, a big and bloody situation,” Deanna heard nothing coming from the other end.

“Is it what turned us?” Deanna heard a few moments later in a hushed voice.

Deanna furrowed her brow. Yeah, she probably could have phrased that better. “What? No, no!” She exclaims. “Cas is… Well, she’s kinda-“

“Cas? Is he - she, okay?” Samantha interrupts.

“No! Listen, let me finish, Sam,” Deanna reassures. “Alright look, I’m gonna have to ask you to get… A few things.”

“Yeah, like? Besides the clothes and food?” Samantha’s voice picked back up to the regular - well as regular as it could get - tone and positivity.

“See, Cas is in a situation, and no, it’s completely natural, no witchcraft or anything, just…” Deanna heaved a sigh. “Cas is on his period. We need supplies. Lots of them, by the looks of things in there.”

“Oh. Wow, okay so…” Samantha let out a breath. “So what do I need?”

“Well, I called up Charlie, did you know there’s reception in Oz?” Deanna let out a singular, sharp huff of laughter. “Anyways, she said there are these things called pads? They’re like hunks of tissue, apparently. Get 3 boxes. You can get them in pharmacies and stuff. Also, if you can hear Cas in the back, she’s in need of some serious pain killers so if you could pick up some of those, too.”

“Cas is in pain? Isn’t she still an angel? Is she alright?” Samantha sounded panicked.

Deanna blinked a few times before answering again. “Sammy, I just said Cas is in pain, do you _think_ she’s okay?”

“Yeah, sure Deanna. Hey, gotta run, size issues,” and Samantha hung up.

Deanna slumped over onto the table and let out one hell of a sigh. She really was screwed if this thing lasted much longer. Her moment of self-pity was broken by another groan. Pushing herself off the table, she headed to the bathroom. Right before entering, she steeled her nerves for whatever she was about to witness.

The door swung open. Deanna took in the still-bloodied towels and floor. The bath’s faucet was running and Castielle seemed to be enjoying a fully-clothed bath.

“Cas? Feeling any better?” Deanna slowly approached said now-woman floating face-down - wow her hair was actually pretty long - in the steaming water.

“No,” she groaned out. “Though the hot water does seem to sooth the pain a little. I think I’ve figured out where I’m bleeding from.”

Cas flipped over in the water, sloshing a bit over the edge, and her hands began to reach down to un-fasten her oversized suit pants, but Deanna rushed over and stopped her with a ‘whoa, whoa, I think I know, too.’

“Really?” Cas sat up straight in the tub, hair sticking to her face. “How do you stop it?”

Deanna crossed her arms and sighed. “Yeah, see that’s the thing.” She watched as Castielle’s face tilted and crumpled into a female version of that signature frown she usually wore. “You can’t. It pretty much stops on its own, what, five days later? A week? Something like that, I didn’t pay much attention in class.”

Cas looked defeated. “I have to suffer through this… This _pain_ , for a _week_?”

Deanna shrugged. “Hey, it’s something that all women apparently go-“

“They why aren’t you going through this?” Castielle stood up out of the tub, dripping water and stomach-clenching making her look no less intimidating. “And you’re telling me that you _knew_ about this? Were you hiding this from me?”

“What? No! Why would I hide anything from you?” Deanna put her hands up in defense. “Besides, how was I supposed to know it was ‘your time of the month’? And just ‘cause it’s not my time, don’t mean I won’t get it later.”

“What is this, some sort of disease?” Castielle sunk back down into the tub but somehow managed to make soaking in bloody water look intimidating.

Deanna walked up to the side of the tub and kneeled by the side of the tub, laying her chin on crossed arms. “No, it’s not some sorta of disease or anything, just listen. It kinda just… happens. It’s not fatal, least not what I heard, and you’re gonna make it through, okay? We got Charlie available in Oz if we need her, and Sam’s out on a run for these tissue things. For the blood, and some painkillers for, well, yeah, the pain. So you’re gonna be alright, got it?”

Cas lay back into the water and groaned. Her groan was cut off when she realized that, yeah, she was bathing in bloody water.

“Hey, yeah, let’s get you cleaned up,” Deanna looped an arm under Cas’ arms and hauled her out of the bath tub, oversized trench coat making her look more than a little ridiculous.

Once Castielle was safely sat down in a corner of the small bathroom, Deanna let the dirty tub water run down the drain and started up the shower that was attached. She ordered Cas to get back in the tub while she rinsed the blood soaked clothing on her.

“Let’s get you out of these wet clothes. You could catch a cold or whatever. Can angels even get sick? Well, considering the state you’re in, let’s not test that,” Deanna absentmindedly murmured as she peeled the trench coat off of Cas and hung it on the towel rack to dry. She looked back down at Castielle and handed her a dry towel from off said rack. “Feeling any better?”

Castielle grabbed the towel and began patting down her oversized suit, shrugging. “I suppose _not_ being drenched in diluted blood does make one feel better.”

“Yeah, okay, c’mon, let’s see if we can’t get you up and at ’em before Sam comes back,” Deanna outstretched her arm with an open palm and pulled Cas up when she grabbed her hand back.

Deanna’s hand probably lingered a little longer than normal when she had to pull away, but if it did, Castielle didn’t notice.

“I just got off the phone with Sam, so it’s gonna take a while before she gets back,” Deanna put a hand on her hip. “We should probably do some research or something. Right?”

Castielle nodded once, still pressing the palm of her hand into her abdomen, trying to dull the pain.

“Oh, right, that,” Deanna vaguely gestured to Cas’ with her free hand. She glanced around the room and grabbed a towel. She quickly ran it under some water, wrung it a little, then handed it to Castielle. “Um, here.”

Cas held the damp towel for a moment. In that moment, she was the embodiment of the question ‘what?’

“For your, uh,” Deanna waved a finger at Castielle. “Your whatever’s-going-on-down-there. You said the hot water made it hurt less, right?”

“Yes, I suppose,” Castielle looked back down at the towel. She glanced back up at Deanna - wow, her eyes really were blue, weren’t they? - and gave her that small smile reserved for these kinds of moments. “Thank you.”

Deanna wasn’t sure exactly what happened, but she couldn’t really look away from Castielle even if she tried. Did she even want to? The Dean-Cas - Deanna-Castielle, whatever - relationship line blurred long ago.

After a moment or two, or twenty, Deanna cleared her throat loud enough to cut through… _whatever_ was in the air. “Right, we should probably get going.”

Cas was suddenly interested in the newly formed puddle of dripping water on the floor. “Yes. I suppose we should.”

“Research?” Deanna tilted her head towards the open door.

“Research,” Cas nodded.

Two hours, fifteen trips to the bathroom, six bloodied towels, one stained wooden chair, and an accidental screaming session later (now all they were missing was a partridge in a pear tree) and Sam finally came back, holding bags of food, clothes and others.

“Dude, what took you so long?” Deanna stood up from the center table and walked towards the door.

“You have _no_ idea how many different kinds of pants there are,” Sam set down the bags on the table and put her hands on her hips. “Plus, we’re all different sizes and it’s kinda hard shopping not know what you’re shopping for. Where’s Cas? She feeling any better?”

“Yeah, well at least she’s not groaning her vocal chords out,” Deanna started pulling out various articles of clothing. “Noticed you changed, how’re the new clothes feeling?”

Samantha glanced down at herself, then at Deanna still wearing those baggy clothes of hers and hesitated before answering. “Honestly? Tight.”

Deanna smirked. “Really?”

“Yeah, seems the only things these stores sell in the women’s section are skinny jeans,” Sam pulled at the hem of her jeans for emphasis. “Oh yeah, and? Women can’t use the bathroom standing. Just a tip.”

Deanna, hunched over the table, glanced up at her sister standing across the table without moving her head. “You mean you…? You really tried to…?” Amused disbelief was laced into her tone.

Samantha cleared her throat and stared blankly into the other side of the room. “Yeah. Let’s not talk about that.”

Deanna picked out clothes from the bags, smiling all the while.

“So where _is_ Cas? I didn’t even know angels could… you know,” Sam carried a six pack of beers into the kitchen.

“Neither did I, but hey, guess what,” Deanna shrugged. “She’s pretty much where she’s been the entire day: bathroom. You get those ‘pad’ things Charlie was talking about?”

“Yeah,” she tossed a box over to Deanna.

Deanna turned over and inspected the box in her hands. It felt like a hard pillow wrapped in a thin layer of plastic. She tore open the box to find smaller pillow-like things wrapped in a more paper-like plastic. Deanna tore open that layer of plastic to find something that vaguely resembled a super thick tissue held together with - no points to whoever gets this first - more plastic.

Deanna raised her eyebrows, unimpressed, and held up the pad for Sam to see. “These are the ‘pads’ Charlie was talking about? These things are supposed to soak up all the blood?”

Sam shrugged. “I guess. Those things cost a bunch so I guess they’re worth something.”

“All the damn plastic they use,” Deanna muttered under her breath, but picked up the box and a bag half full of clothes anyways. She raised her voice back up to her regular speaking tone. “I’m gonna assume that at least some of these are Cas’ size, I’m gonna go check up on her.”

Sam glanced up from the bag she was unpacking between strands of waist-long hair and nodded once before resuming her duty.

Deanna, box of pads under one arm and bag of clothes in the other, walked down the hallways before stopping in front of the bathroom door Cas had been in most of the day. Dropping the box, Deanna knocked on the door twice. “Cas? You doing alright in there? Can I come in?”

A moment later, a groan replied. “You can come in.”

Deanna opened to the door to find Castielle hidden under her somewhat-bloody trench coat. Deanna’s eyes flickered to the pile of - oh God - were those Cas’ clothes? Deanna re-examined the pile of cloth and those were most definitely not towels. Dark slacks, pink dress shirt - blood shed spared no clothes, no matter how white your shirt may have been - and a pair of boxers.

“Uh, Cas?” Deanna really hoped it was the room that was hot and it wasn’t just her. She took a step through the bathroom’s threshold and jerked a finger at the pile of clothes. “What’s with that?”

“The tiles are cool,” Castielle tried to push herself off of the floor, but gave up about an inch up and fell back down, dark hair splayed across her neck. “And I was too hot.”

‘Damn straight,’ quickly flashed through Deanna’s mind, but she quickly waved the thought away because she was pretty sure this was how about 50% of pornos began.

“Apparently, in human society, covering oneself is considered polite, hence the coat,” Castielle managed to sum enough power to at least push herself upright against the wall and suddenly Deanna was very appreciative of the shorter trench coat Cas had adopted recently and was using as a sort of blanket. “I heard the door, is Sam back?”

Deanna snapped out of the short trance she was put in and blinked rapidly. “Oh, yeah, she’s back. Got some clothes, too.” Deanna managed, realizing she’d left both the bag and the box outside. She kicked the box into the bathroom and dumped the clothes on top of the closed toilet seat.

“I’m gonna leave you to do your changing business, I’m not your mom or anything,” Deanna smirked at her own joke before looking at Cas’ confusion and realizing she’s probably never had a mom figure in her life and leaving with an embarrassed, “yeah, okay.”

And Deanna doesn’t wait outside the bathroom door. Nope.

She doesn’t think about what Castielle would look like in different clothes, what she might look if she was actually cleaned up a bit. Nope.

Doesn’t pace outside the bathroom door, tripping over her own pants because she wanted to have a look at the new Cas.

If you ask her, she’d always deny it, because it was true. Right?

Though if you ask her if her eyes lingered on Castielle, dressed impeccably in figure-hugging, black jeans and a plain, white button-up that was tight in all the right places, well then. Deanna just may hesitate before lying through her teeth.

“Deanna? Deanna?” Cas snapped Deanna out of her trance, making her blink hard. That seemed to happen a lot. “Deanna, how do I use this?”

Deanna frowned, until she realized Cas was holding up one of the wrapped glorified tissues. “Oh, uh, Charlie didn’t tell me how, exactly. You’re supposed to put them in your underwear or something? Apparently they’re sticky.”

Cas frowned and pulled a face. “That doesn’t sound comfortable.”

Deanna nodded her head and raised her eyebrows in momentary consideration, then pointed to the fist Cas was pressing into her abdomen. “Yeah, well it can’t be worse than whatever else you’ve got going on down there, right?”

Castielle stared intently at the hand that wasn’t wrapped around herself, as if it had the power to unravel the secrets of the universe and, knowing some of the stuff she ran into, it just might have.

“I’ll be back,” Cas walked back into the bathroom, sounding more like a soldier about to fight a war rather than an angel on her period putting on a pad.

“Yeah, alright,” Deanna said to the empty corridor before slumping against the section of the wall opposite the door.

Cas finally came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, face clenched in a clear expression of uncomfortableness. Deanna couldn’t help but smirk.

“You doing alright there, bud?” Deanna pushed herself off of the cool concrete and took a step towards Cas.

“No.” Her answer came out bland. She tried to walk closer to Deanna, but ‘walking’ wasn’t really the right word. It was more waddling than walking, as if a penguin had been given knees halfway through its life, once it’s already learned to waddle everywhere, which was both awkward and amusing to watch, to Deanna.

“Hey, where are your old clothes?” Deanna looked past Cas into the bathroom, then back to Cas.

Cas pointed to the pile of clothes folded neatly on the toilet seat. Deanna walked into the room, picked up the pile, dumped it into the bathtub and turned on the water.

“Let’s soak these so when you’re back to being a guy again, you’ll have something to wear,” Deanna pushed the clothes under the surface of the water before standing, turning back to Cas and wiping her hands on herself. “Don’t wanna wash blood in hot water; cooks the blood and makes it even harder to get out.”

“Deanna, I don’t-” Castielle stopped herself before she could finish. “I was going to say ‘I don’t understand why I would need that information’, but…” Cas shrugged, the implication hanging in the air.

A few moments later and Deanna was walking out of the bathroom. “C’mon, let’s go dig up some more info now that Sam’s back.”

Only after two hours, a change of clothes for Deanna and Samantha, an entire bookshelf of mythical creatures, three packs of beer, and half a fridge of food, did someone finally make a reasonable point.

“Hey, Cas?” Sam had said while flipping through a book of Greek monsters. “Can’t you just detect what’s going on? Don’t you angels have some sort of ‘supernatural sixth-sense’?”

Castielle sighed and closed a book on Egyptian deities. “I would if I could, Sam. This… Comma?”

“Period.”

“Period,” Castielle corrected herself. “You humans have a habit of naming long, inconvenient time periods after punctuation. Either way, this ‘period’ females experience is… Draining. To say the least.”

“So you’re saying you can’t work your angel mojo?” Deanna came up behind Cas, planting her palms on the table and leaning over her shoulder.

“Deanna, if I could ‘work my angel mojo’, do you think I would put myself through the pain I have to endure? Or even keep you two as females?” Cas gave Deanna one of her signature ‘I-think-you’re-an-idiot’ looks, lady-style.

“Wait, wait, wait, hold up,” Deanna held up a palm, as if trying to physically stop Castielle’s words from pouring out of her mouth. “Then what was that whole thing about ‘I can’t sense anything in the bunker’?”

“Well that was true,” Cas sighed. “Just because I’m drained doesn’t mean I can’t still use my powers. It’s just very difficult to achieve successful results.”

Deanna’s head snapped back up to look at Sam, fake smile so bright the sun would be jealous. “Great. Our friendly, neighborhood angel can’t get it up, we’re stuck as chicks and we have no leads.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘no leads’,” Sam contradicted from her place across the table. “While I was out earlier I saw some other women look really confused.”

“And you think they were originally guys in the first place?” Deanna raised her eyebrows.

“Look confused enough to be,” Samantha shrugged. Then she furrowed her eyebrows and put a finger to her lips, clearly deep in though. “Actually, a lot of women were confused. Come to think about it, I don’t think I saw any guys. At all. Hey Cas?”

Cas nodded once to show she was paying attention, though she had buried her head in crossed arms.

“I know you’re… Magically constipated,” Sam looked for the right words but came up with zilch. “But could you scan the nearby area for any signs of magic or witchcraft? Sort of like picking up on a magic scent?”

Castielle didn’t reply for several moments, Deanna had even begun to think she’d dozed off until she jerked up. “There are traces of magic. Not hex bags, but a spell. I can’t tell quite how large the area of effect is, but it’s very large. Larger than this town and larger than I currently have the patience to deal with.”

“So we got someone going all ‘Maleficent’ and turning entire towns into chicks?” If Deanna frowned any harder her face might have imploded. “Why?”

Cas plopped her head back into her arms and Sam shrugged. “Whatever it is, we gotta reverse the spell.”

Deanna looked around her at the book-filled room they were in. She dragged herself over towards a section on witchcraft and threw a book towards the general direction of the table, and Sam was lucky enough to have caught it. “Looks like we’d better start reading.”

By the end of night everyone was sick of witches - if Deanna read another damn book about how certain recipes were meant to be brewed at certain temperatures she was going to avada kedavra herself, and they’d _still_ gotten nowhere with reversing spells of this magnitude. By around the time of 11:30, they’d finally decided to call it a night.

That’s how Deanna found herself tossing and turning in the darkness of her room, unable to find a comfortable position in her bed. She couldn’t sleep on her stomach, - unfortunately she had two balls in the way – couldn’t sleep on her back, it just felt _wrong_ , and her sides just didn’t work out.

She groaned and sat up in bed. Maybe she should just give up on sleeping tonight.

She was just about to get up and do… well, anything that wasn’t sleeping, when the door bust open, light streaming in practically blinding Deanna.

“What the hell-” She raised up an arm to block the light.

“Deanna,” a voice called out.

“Cas?” Deanna lowered her arm and waited for her eyes to adjust. “What are you doing here?”

Castielle walked right past Deanna and set herself down on the side of the bed. “I have an urge.”

A million different thoughts ran through Deanna’s head at once, only about three rated lower than PG-13. She swallowed and blinked hard to clear her mind. “Which is to?”

Castielle looked Deanna in the eye. “I need to sleep.”

Deanna frowned. “I though angels didn’t sleep.”

“Just because we don’t sleep doesn’t mean we can’t,” Castielle lay down on the bed and closed her eyes, albeit a bit robotic in her movements. “I realize that if I render myself unconscious for eight hours, I will have to suffer eight less hours of pain.”

Deanna nodded in acknowledgement and approached the bed before sitting at the edge of it and talking down to Cas. “So what’s with you sleeping here? We’ve got plenty of other spare rooms if you wanna sleep in there.”

“I’ve been informed that falling asleep is much easier when alongside a partner,” Castielle folded her arms over her chest, corpse-in-a-funeral-style, fingers interlocked, and looked _completely_ and _utterly_ relaxed, not at all angular and the exact opposite of comfortable. Nope, not at all.

Deanna shrugged and lay down beside Cas, finding herself thinking something she had been thinking a lot lately – ‘stranger things have happened’ – and found herself questioning whether anything stranger than lying beside your best friend/partner/crush-maybe/practically-family that had mysteriously turned female because someone a few towns over decided to make everyone within a 30 mile radius a chick in bed with no intention of doing anything other than platonic-maybe had actually happened.

Wow, Deanna had one messed up life.

Either way, there she was, lying beside Castielle in her suddenly too small bed, feeling suddenly too hot.

A few moments of awkwardness later, and Castielle spoke up. “Don’t we use the blanket?”

Deanna head jerked to the bed and noticed said blanket bunched up in her fists. She unclenched then flashed a weak grin at Castielle for a moment. “Yeah, I guess. Um, get up for a sec.”

Castielle did that exactly. Two or three painfully silent moments later, Deanna and Castielle were tucked under the blanket, both, once again, backs down, very angular and arms pressed against each other.

Deanna just tried to make the best of it, and closed her eyes. Of course, Murphy’s Law just had to kick in just as Deanna began to lose consciousness. “Deanna?”

Deanna’s eyes shot open and she couldn’t stop the little frustrated groan that came out. “Yeah?”

“This isn’t comfortable,” Cas stated.

“Yeah, no crap,” Dean squirmed uncomfortably against the solid weight that was Cas.

“Isn’t this meant to be comfortable?” Cas turned to face Deanna.

“Yeah, well, you’re not really making it easy,” Deanna said, feeling Cas shift against her side, still looking straight up into the darkness called the ceiling.

“I apologize, this is my first time sleeping as an angel,” Cas’ voice was quiet.

Deanna made a noise of agreement. “I can tell.”

A moment passed.

“Deanna?”

Deanna turned to her head to the side and suddenly Castielle was all she could see. Dark hair falling into those deep, blue eyes and - platonic, _platonic_ , remember, Deanna? - she lost the ability to speak.

“Yeah?” She forced out.

“If I misunderstood our situation,” Cas seemed impossibly close yet impossibly far at the same time. “Then I’m sorry.”

“Misunders-?” Was all Deanna managed to get out before her senses were overloaded.

Castielle in her face, her lips on hers, - wow, they were way different, softer, than had she imagined. Well, not imagined but - her hair brushing her cheek, Castielle holding Deanna’s cheeks... Within seconds, Deanna was melting into her and vice versa, unable to break apart.

Deanna’s head was spinning and it didn’t stop when they had to breathe. The two of them had somehow rolled onto the other side of the bed, dangerously close to falling off. She had rolled on top of Castielle, a knee wedged between her thighs.

“Hey, Castielle?” Deanna’s voice was oddly airy and oddly rough at the same time.

“Yes?” Cas’ voice was deeper than usual - whoo, Deanna could get used to hearing that.

“I know we can’t ‘do it’ ‘cause you’ve got your whatevers and all,” Deanna came closer down to Castielle.

“And?” Cas was unusually impatient, digging her hands into Deanna’s hair and practically radiating heat.

“As soon as we’re back to guys, I’m gonna make sure it don’t stay that way.”

Deanna woke up half-naked, surrounded by angel and - honestly? - she couldn’t be happier.

Well, technically she could have been, considering Sam had to ruin everything by running in saying that she’d found out who the witch was and that she was only in town for the rest of today - because Deanna’s life was just unlucky like that - but considering the promise she made last night that Castielle seemed _completely_ enthusiastic to agree to, then maybe it wasn’t so bad.

During the ride over, she brought up a very reasonable point.

“So how are we gonna reverse the spell?” Deanna glanced over from the driver’s seat.

“Well, remember that one time we did a reverse exorcism? I’m thinking that if both exorcism and spells have roots in Latin, then if we just say the spell backwards, it should work,” Samantha explained, pulling out a sheet of paper. “This,” she waved it in the air, “is the spell; it can transform anyone into anything you want, but it takes a hell of a lot of power. So for someone to have this large of an area of effect, means that what we’re dealing with is the most powerful witch we’ve ever encountered.”

Deanna lightly smacked one hand against the steering wheel. “Great, we don’t _just_ have a witch. We have a super-mega-ultra witch. Great. This is just great.”

Samantha shrugged. “’Least we can reverse the spell, right? Then we can get back to being guys again.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Deanna turned the car into the driveway. “This the place?”

Sam looked up at the buildings. “Yeah, the one with the balcony.”

Deanna pulled onto the side of the street and climbed out, careful not to wrinkle her new suit. She was just about to leave when she realized that – damn the lack of pockets – she forgot her bag.

“Damn it, why are all the pockets on these damn jackets always fake?” She slammed the door a little harder than necessary. “I mean, couldn’t they at least have made the _pants_ pockets real? Why did they think just these… these… _Flaps_ were a good idea?”

Samantha stood by her side and slipped her a thin, leather slip to Deanna. “New FBI badges.” She quickly explained before walking ahead of Deanna and knocking on the door.

The door didn’t open. Deanna walked to the door, grumbling something about ‘the damn designers and their lack of consideration towards people that need places to keep knives,’ while slipping a gun into the back of her dress pants, covering it with her suit jacket.

The Winchester sisters waited, but no one came to the door, even after the second and third knock.

They shared a skeptical glance before Sam tried the door knob. The door swung open.

The inside of the house was dark, and it looked as if no one had been living in it for years. Cobwebs hung from every corner, but even those seemed deserted. Deanna tried a light and it suddenly flooded the main room, illuminating a door by the stairs that would have otherwise been hidden.

Wow, this witch must read a lot of fantasy novels.

Samantha inspected the door and rested her hand instinctively against her hip only to realize that – oh! – she didn’t have pockets and quickly reached into the hand bag she carried and clutched her knife. She lightly pushed against it and, as the front door did, it swung open.

Did this witch _want_ to be caught or something?

The door opened to a set of narrow stairs heading down into a basement. The walls were carved and painted with symbols that not even Samantha could identify, they were so old.

“What the hell-?” Deanna muttered, cautiously walking down the stairs. Considering how _cliché_ this entire thing was, one of the wooden stairs was probably going to give out any moment.

Once the two of them made it down the stairs without a stair giving out, a boulder coming down to crush them or stepping on a pressure plate and shooting poison arrows out at them, they found a small wooden table with a large mixing bowl in the middle. Surround by candles. Of course, always candles.

“Deanna, careful, we don’t know what kind of power the witch has,” They both eased into center of the room, near the table.

“Witch? Do you mean me?” A nasally voice came from atop the stairs. Just before the door slammed shut, blocking off the only light source, the hunters manages to get a glimpse of a vague female form.

Deanna and Sam heard the magical objects on the table rattle and felt a breeze pass them by. “I can tell you’re not female. Well, not originally female. You’ve been put under my spell, haven’t you?”

“So you’ve been doing this?” Samantha said, twisting her head in the darkness, but the voice seemed to come from all around them. “Why?”

The chuckles echoed off the walls. “The world’s not fair. You _males,_ ” the witch spat out that word with a particular venom “have ruined the world.”

“Wait, what?” Deanna frowned and slid the gun out from behind her. She felt another gust of wind knock the gun out of her hands. “You’ve been turning guys into girls because the world’s not fair?”

“Are you saying you’ve not been seeing it?” The witch barked out a laugh again. “Of course you haven’t. You’re _guys_.”

“What? What does that mean, ‘we’re guys’?” Sam tried to take a step towards the table but it seemed to have disappeared. “What does that have to do with anything?”

The lights in the cramped basement inexplicably - well, the witch turned them on, but hey - flick back on and the witch was standing at the foot of the stairs. Long, dark hair, pale skin and a white, flowing dress to match. _Seriously_. Did she just copy and paste everything out of books and movies?

“What do you ignorant men have to do with the inequality in this world? It has _everything_ to do with it,” the witch slowly approached Sam. Sam clenched her hand around the knife in the bag. The witch glanced down at the bag a smirked. “A knife? Let’s see, pure silver? Sure, go ahead, kill me, but you still won’t be able to reverse the spell.”

Deanna stepped forward one pace and smiled a smug smile. “Well too bad, ‘cause we know how to reverse the spell.”

“Oh, you mean this?” A folded piece of paper appeared in the witch’s hand.

Samantha frowned and dug through her bag. She looked back up and pointed at the paper. “That’s the spell.”

The witch twisted the paper in her fingers and smiled. “That’s _a_ spell, idiot male. Let’s have a look at it, shall we?”

Samantha lunged forward, trying to create some sort of gash on the witch, but she turned into purple smoke and reappeared behind the two sisters.

She made a tut-ing sound while slowly shaking her head and grinning. “Oh, you boys are fun. Now, that spell?” She unfolded the paper and suddenly the room was dark and her voice came from everywhere once again.

 _“Omne masculinum in hoc mundo._  
Omne generis masculini, et vivit:  
Et ora pro nobis ad Dominum,  
Ut mutetur.  
Conversus omnis masculus et femina.

Latin? Not bad, not bad,” her voice cooed from every corner all at once. “Unfortunately, it won’t work.”

In a quick flash of light in the dark, the small square of paper that was the spell combusted into small smolders of ash.

“You see, where I get my powers? Hecate – Greek, not Latin,” Deanna could have sworn she felt a thin finger brush against her cheek. “A _girl_.”

“Why do you keep talking about girls like that?” Deanna tried to reach out for anything that would have been in front of her but got a whole handful of smoke. “Got a problem with genders or something?”

The room brightened ever so slightly to a deep red, then the witch re-solidified in front of the two, angrier than they’d seen before.

“One, specifically,” the room flashed a more intense red and the witch kept approaching the sisters. “You: _males._ ”

She kept approaching Deanna and Sam, and just when she was about to walk into them, she dissipated into smoke again and reappeared behind them. “ _You’re_ the reason the world is unequal, you selfish _pigs_.” A wisp of green smoke gathered in her hands and produced a ball of green fire that she hurled at Deanna who only barely managed to dodge the fire.

“What?” Samantha took another swing at the witch with her knife but the witch seemed to be a fan of turning into smoke at the last second. “How does that explain _anything_ you did?”

“I decided if you can’t beat them,” she chuckled as she watched the fire ball that Deanna dodged explode and send sparks flying. “You make them join you. Because then we’re all equal. Because I’m a little something called a feminist, ever hear of that? Of course not, because you ignorant _guys_ don’t know anything about respecting women, do you?”

“What? Are you crazy?” Deanna said, clutching a burn from a piece of the exploding fireball that hit her.

The witch reformed, pushing Deanna into a corner of the room with both her bodily form and her magical powers. “No. I’m right.”

The witch magically threw Deanna against the opposite wall - seriously? Was that the first thing they taught in hunter-fighting school? - and she collapsed to the ground.

Samantha tried to sneak up behind the witch, but the witch turned and held up her palm, freezing Samantha in her place with her powers. “You men think you rule everything, but you don’t. And now, I’m going to turn all of you into women. See how you like having to deal with our crap for once.”

She clenched her hand and Samantha’s windpipe tightened. “You’re a monster,” Sam choked out.

The witch walked a step forward until she was in Sam’s face. “And like you aren’t.”

The witch grinned and fully clenched her hand into a fist. Sam tried to struggle against the invisible grip on her throat, but still wasn’t able to move. Just before she blacked out, she saw a large cloud of purple smoke appear behind the witch, then everything went black.

When Samantha woke up, she found another, pale-skinned, dark haired lady but it wasn’t the witch. The witch had striking gray eyes, but this woman had a homier feel to her violet, glowing eyes. She was wrapped in a flowing white sheet with streaks of blue tinting the fabric.

“Sorry about that,” the woman was crouching over Sam. “I’ve been a little desperate lately, and, well, I guess things got out of hand.”

She slowly raised herself off of the cold concrete. The woman stood up and spoke with that silky voice again. “Looks like this has been a bit of a sticky situation.”

Sam stood up and tried to speak despite her voice being hoarse. “Who are you? And what do you mean desperate?”

The woman chuckled as she walked over to the unconscious Deanna lying on the ground, but the way she did it didn’t alarm Samantha at all. “Oh, you don’t recognize me? I guess not many do these days.” She stood with a certain elegance. “I’m Hecate, the Greek goddess, I’m guessing our little witch here mentioned me?”

Samantha approached the goddess cautiously. “You mean you’ve been the one powering the witch who _turned half the state into girls?_ ”

Hecate chuckled again, a warm sound resonated through the small room. “Like I said, I was desperate. Her offerings were delicious, though,” her voice had a certain air of enjoyment and lightness to it. “Rat’s hearts, sheep’s liver, the best offerings I’ve had in _centuries_. I couldn’t help myself, I guess.”

Samantha had a mix of confusion and horror on her face as she took a glance at the unconscious witch on the ground.at what was in the bowl on the table, suddenly back from where it disappeared.

Hecate smiled. “Don’t worry; I’ll be taking her back with me to Greece. And I’ll reverse her spell, too.”

One minute Hecate was there, the next she was gone in a whirl of lavender smoke, then everything went black.

The lights were blindingly bright, someone was calling Deanna’s - why did they cut off before they finished? - and everything was _way_ too tight. And maybe a little hot, but Deanna didn’t know why.

“Dean? Dean?” The voice came from far away, distorted as if hearing it from underwater.

“That’s not my name,” Deanna’s voice was strange sounding. “I’m a chick now.”

“I doubt that,” it finally clicked whose voice it was and, wait, since when was Cas back to normal?

Deanna - Dean? Was she a he now? - sat upright on the… the bed? Yeah, that was a bed s/he was on. Dean(na) looked around, his/her same old room with his/her same old decorations and weapons, then down at him/herself.

Oh yeah.

Definitely a dude.

Definitely a dude cross dressing as a woman in a suit about three sizes too small.

If Dean were more aware of himself, he’d probably actually enjoy this a little, but right now the world was spinning and didn’t seem to want to stop.

“Dean?” Castiel’s - look! No double ‘l’ and an extra ‘e’! - voice dragged Dean from his trance and back into the real world.

“Cas?” He asked, more to test out his voice again rather than as to actually ask whether Cas was okay because, c’mon, he was an angel. No period this time around. Hopefully.

“I’m not sure what happened, I turned back into a male again and you and Sam were unconscious in the main room,” Cas explained. “Sam woke up and went to his room, and I teleported you into here.”

At the sound of the word ‘teleported’, Dean sighed and leaned back into the memory foam, eyes closed and with a small smile on his face. Cas was back to full power, Sam was conscious and Dean couldn’t really bring himself to worry about what exactly happened when he blacked out.

When Dean opened his eyes a moment later, Castiel had leaned over in front of Dean and Dean couldn’t help but notice that _‘wow his eyes are a nicer shade of blue as a guy’_ and that ‘ _I wonder if he still kisses the same as a guy’_ before he grinned.

He remembered everything that happened while being a girl. He remembered last night.

He remembered Castiel.

And, more importantly, that Cas was his.

All his.

So, let’s sum up what had happened this week so far:

Dean had woken up as Deanna, Sam as Samantha and Castiel as Castielle. There had been some femenazi witch turning all the guys into gals because ‘it was only fair’. A Greek goddess had saved the day.

And the most important event?

Dean made good on his promise he made with Castiel.

While cross dressing.

That was definitely the most important event.


End file.
